Fortuna's Scorn
by armonistan
Summary: There are those born to Fortuna's good graces. Then, there are those who are not. They who live in her shadow are doomed. The current, the world, fate itself will forever be against them.
1. Ashes

**Colony of New Constantinople, Bosporus System:**

**September 2537**

Private First Class Jeremy Jones stood aghast at scene the laid before him. The floor of the small apartment was sticky. Red stained the carpet, the counters, and the girl. Human pieces were strewn across the ground. A mother, a father, a son…they were all dead. He started to shake. Was it from anger? Disgust? Jones didn't know. How could he? The academy had not prepared him for this…savagery.

It was then that the smell of charred flesh reached his nose. He suppressed the urge to hurl his MRE. However, the odor also helped him snap back to reality. There was a battle going on, and he couldn't stand here a wait. There was a slushing, as his boots stepped through the blood soaked carpet. The wretched sound filled the silent room as Jones approached the girl.

"Jesus…" The marine whispered, catching sight of something new.

It was another body, that of an alien…a Grunt. It was lying face down on the ground. A kitchen knife was stuck into its stubby neck, not doubt the cause of alien's death. The girl was visibly shaking.

"Hey, you okay?" Jones asked, reaching a hand out.

He got no response. Admittedly, it was a stupid question. But what the hell was he supposed to say? A concussive blast of nearby grenade rang. Jones didn't have much time. The evacuation operation was wrapping up. New Constantinople had fallen. All the UNSC could do now is save and salvage what they could. His com buzzed It was his squad leader.

"Private, are there any survivors on level four of the apartment?"

"Yes sir, I found one."

"Good, now get your goddamn ass down here. It's only a matter of time before the Covies catch up."

"I am on my way, sir."

The marine gave another look at the girl. She was no older than six or seven. Her olive skin was, like the rest of the apartment, covered in a spray of blood. She returned a blank stare. His amber eyes met with hers.

"We have to go." He told her softly, breaking away.

For a moment, the brunette child did not budge. Jones' hand was still reached out, waiting. Then, she took it. With that, he scooped the small child up and left.


	2. Ripples

**Colony of Reach, Epsilon Eridani System:**

**July 2539**

The girl from New Constantinople sat in her little corner as she always did after lunch. There, she stared blankly across the room at the opposite wall. The yellow paint proved mesmerizing. A wonderfully bland place to lose time to. Some of the younger children, those of about ages four through six, would run around the room expending their boundless energy. Those who were older, about ten or older, were far more somber. The girl was one such child. She, like her peers, realized that mom and dad were not coming back.

Mom. Dad. That was what the girl thought about every day. Her family. Her home,. Her life. It had all been ripped apart. It was all gone. Even now, after more than a year, the memories still stung. But, she did not cry anymore. She couldn't. It was not because of some naive personal willpower or strength but because she simply had no tears left to cry. Instead, she just drifted from day to day in a daze, wondering how everything had changed so quickly.

"Tag! You're it, Isya!" laughed Isaac. He was a chubby lad. His round green eyes and brown locks gave him a bubbly look. It reminded the girl of her brother. Her mind went to dark places

"Never gonna catch me!"

He ran off laughing. Isya, however, stayed where she was. Being "it" did not cross her mind. No, she was too focused on keeping her lunch down. Already the scene was playing out in her head again. Jacob, her older brother, ripped in half, charred, eyes vacant. She curled up, head down, eyes closed. It usually helped clear her head of these moments. The image dissipated.

She stayed this way, even after the mental picture had left. How long, Isya didn't know. She would've gone on longer had she not received a tap on her shoulder. It was Ms. Carol, one of the caretakers.

"Isya, I have great news for you." She spoke in her characteristically soft voice, as she crouched to

Isya's level.

Isya gave her a blank look. Good was a foreign concept.

"There is a nice man who wants to see you." She smiled.

"Someone…someone wants me?" asked Isya. Confusion. After so many months, she was convinced she would be stuck here at the orphanage.

Ms. Carol's smile broke for just a moment. Isya had no way to know how much it hurt the blonde woman to hear such a depressing question. The smile reappeared, though to someone older it was clear it was forced.

Making eye contact with the ten year old, Ms. Carol lent her hand. "Come on" she assured.

Isya grabbed trustingly, letting Ms. Carol hoist her up. "Okay, now. Let's go." A short walk led to the pair to the front office. There, a stocky black man awaited, back turned.

"Mr. Cooper?"

"Hmm? This is her?"

"Yes. Would you like to have a moment?"

Isya stared at the peculiar symbol on the man's arm sleeve: a black and white pyramid with an eye. It

stared back.

"No need for that, ma'am."

Ms. Carol did not hide her exasperation. "Are...are you sure, Mr. Cooper? I thought you were interested in adopting her."

"As I said, no need. You will find the paperwork already filled out in your office."

The man walked...no, marched, toward Isya. Unlike, Ms. Carol, he did not crouch when he spoke to her. Nor, did he have any softness or even empathy in him.

"Do you want to leave or stay?"

They were the first words directed toward the young girl. It was a simple question. A test. It wasn't just the man, but the eye, too, waited for her response. Without saying a word, Isya let go of Ms. Carol's hand. The gruff face of the man loosened ever so slightly.

"Good."

The eye never stopped watching.


	3. Jump

. **Planet****Onyx, ****Zeta Doradus System****:**

**August 2539**

Isya looked out of the open Pelican bay, mouth agape. Even in the night's darkness, she could see the dark green foliage pass by with startling speed. On occasion, there would be a blemish, a glade or pond punctuating the sea of greenery. All of this never lasted more than a second. It gave a sense of speed that was breathtaking.

She shifted her backpack. The lass could count the number of times she had ever been in the sky on one hand. Isya remembered each time not because of their rarity but because they were moments to be cherished. Compared with the other kids she was crammed in with, many looking green, she could only assume she was alone in her feelings. Then again, she had felt the same way they looked earlier today.

_Several hours ago…_

The cyropod belched gas. With a groan, the glass covering opened. The contents of the pod were thrown out on all fours. These contents then released their stomach's contents. The dissidence of three hundred plus children puking sang out.

Stumbling up on to her feet, Isya's eyes teared-up in response to her burned throat's throbbing. The pods were just as bad as they were during the flight from New Constantinople. She attempted to steady herself on the steel grate flooring, trying to compensate for the world spinning around her. To make matters better, Isya felt confusion mix in with her nausea. How did she get here? Faint memories of being ordered by the man who had taken her into the cyropod behind her came to mind. Then...?

"Wake up, maggots! Form up in a straight line." A voice blared out.

The sound broke Isya's daze. It was then that she found she was not alone. Looking to her sides, the truth was far from it. Hundreds of petite bodies clustered in the hallway.

"There are so many people…" The words stuck to her dry mouth. Some were her age, others younger, and more yet older. None of them seemed to have a clue on what was going on. Then she caught sight of an adult woman at the end of the hall.

"You will do as ordered!" the woman exclaimed, pushing one of the children into the middle of the corridor. The buzz cut and ripped body she sported made her quite intimidating, as if the boisterous voice wasn't enough.

"Line up on him." She bellowed pointing at the boy she had shoved. The mass of children submitted without hesitation. The human instinct to follow the leader could not be resisted. A line slowly began to coalesce. When the line came to Isya, she too found herself captive to the mob's will, allowing herself to be swallowed by the structure.

"Now, follow!"

The line lurched forward. In some aspect, the convoy of confused children was involuntarily playing "Follow the Leader". Up the stairs, down the corridor, through the bays, the journey lasted for almost an eternity. Finally, they exited the ship and moved toward a nearby meadow. There, a giant clad in green armor stood, waiting.

"At ease!" the woman yelled. She then left the head of the line to join a group of individuals that looked equally frightening as her.

Isya, like the rest of children, had no idea what "ease" meant, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter that the scary woman had left them alone. No, all that mattered was the green giant. He, or maybe she, no, it looked like something from the stories Isya's father once read to her. He must have been three, no more four times her size, unmoving, orange visor staring indifferently at the crowd. It made the woman look like nothing. What was it?

The giant finally decided to show life. Its head slowly turned. Isya could feel the gaze of it studying her under the moonlight. Then, it stopped, satisfied with its results. Finally, the giant had decided the time was now.

"Welcome to Onyx. I am Lieutenant Ambrose." Ambrose paused, letting the introduction sink in.

"What you may not know, is that each and every one of you are orphans. The Covenant has come and ruined your lives. You may feel sad. You may feel empty. You may even feel angry. But, I do not care about what you feel."

Ambrose let his words simmer. Isya, like the others, did not respond well. Who was he to insult them?

"I don't care about what you feel…because there is something else more important to me; the reason why you are here."

The murmurs ceased.

"You have been brought here today because you have the potential to be something greater than anyone could possibly hope for, you have the potential to fight. Fight for your family. Fight for your home. Fight for meaning." Ambrose removed his helmet. "This is because you have the potential to become a Spartan."

What did it mean to be a Spartan? Truth was, she didn't know. It had to be something special from the way Ambrose mentioned it. Then it clicked, he was a Spartan. And she...she could be like him. A giant like the stories. Maybe, just maybe, she could be something.

"But, before you can become a Spartan, you must first pass a test."

Isya couldn't help but be engrossed. Just a single test, then...she didn't have words for it but she knew it was important. She felt it. "Should you succeed, you will become a _candidate_." Kurt put special emphasis on "candidate". "If you have what it takes to become a Spartan, then board the Pelicans." On cue, a flock of Pelicans approached the clearing. Within thirty seconds, the roar of the Pelicans drowned out almost all sound.

"The instructors will tell you what to do next." Lieutenant Ambrose yelled.

As the armored behemoth turned to leave, the crowd of youth pulsed toward the airships. Those who were ten or older pushed and shoved their way to Pelican's, determined to be first to enter the crafts. Those who were younger, six or seven years old, were a little less driven. They did not quite understand everything that the Spartan had just said. But even they knew that they could become a Spartan if they went to the Pelicans.

Isya stumbled as a rather bulky boy rammed his way through the wall of humans. Though she had started at the front of the crowd, she had fallen behind, settling in the middle of the mass. Regaining her footing, she continued her push toward the Pelicans. While not as forceful as the older kids, she still made full use of her age advantage where she could. It had been a long time since she felt this feeling. It was a drive to move forward. The last time was when her home was under attack. When she had done something that haunted her every night. When she had stabbed the alien with the kitchen knife and…killed it. The thought still made her shudder.

When she finally clambered into the transport ship's bay, Isya found that she had cut it close. Ten seconds after she had boarded the Pelican, the ground began to shrink. The engines did something Isya thought impossible and screamed even louder.

"Alright worms!" a familiar voice sounded out, piercing the noise of the engines.

Isya turned to face the voice.

"Oh, no".

It was the woman from the ship. Up close, Isya could see the woman's sharp facial features. They only served to amplify her intimidating disposition.

"Each one of you will take a backpack!" the hawk woman screamed as she began handing out backpacks.

"Do you see this string?" the hawk woman demanded, pointing at a piece of string attached to a pack.

"You will not play with this string! You will not think about playing with this string! You will not even consider thinking about playing with this string!"

One by one, each kid took a backpack. When she received hers, Isya was surprised at how heavy it was. She wondered what it was for. Strapping it on as instructed, she found that the instructor was done talking. Instead, the hawk woman just stared blankly at the open bay door. If Isya had been older, she might have seen remorse on the hawk woman's face. Instead, though, she turned to stare out the open Pelican bay and see what was so interesting.

_Present…_

It had been five minutes since the kids had received the backpacks. The instructor had still not explained what they were for. Finally, someone, a boy, summoned the bravery to ask. Stepping out of the cluster of kids, he yelled out the question.

"Uh…ma'am, what are these backpacks for? Are they for the test?"

The question seemed to snap the instructor out of her stupor. She then turned to look at the boy. The glare caused the boy to melt into the crowd. Sadly, the boy was not so lucky as to get away. The instructor reached out and grabbed the retreating boy's wrist and pulled him toward her.

"Well, what do you know? It looks like someone actually has a pair in this group!" she taunted. "I am ELATED to see someone wants to pass this test!"

Isya had no idea what elated meant, but she was sure it did not mean something good.

"These backpacks are parachutes. If you want to be a Spartan, you will jump out this Pelican!" she laughed. The woman seemed savor the looks of fear and shock etched on the children's faces.

She pointed at a red light. "When this light turns green, you will be allowed to jump. If you do, then you may pull the string. If your parachute works, you might live!"

As the hawk woman cackled bitterly, the light turned green. No one moved.

"What? No volunteers? You are all pathetic!" the hawk woman sneered.

The boy who had asked the question ripped his arm back from the instructor.

"I volunteer." He said.

The hawk woman stared for a second.

"My, my, what a man!" the instructor yelled out. "I guess we may have some Spartan material here after all. Okay, my little Spartan, walk up to the end of the bay. When I say jump, you jump. Your goal is simple: reach the light."

The boy did not respond, instead he just nodded. When he was in position, the hawk woman signaled.

"Jump."

And with this utterance, the boy disappeared into the night sky. A collective gasp from the kids overcame the noise of the engines. The instructor, however, wore a slight smile on her face. The grin quickly evaporated as she remembered that there were other children on board.

"If anyone else wants to jump, form a line."

Many of the youth scrambled to get into line. A few refused to budge, unwilling to face the unknown.

A few, like Isya, hesitated.

Isya was afraid. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of jumping. Flying was fine, falling was not. And yet, she had the funniest feeling in her gut. It was the same as the one she had had earlier when climbing on to the Pelican or the one at home in New Constantinople. What this was, Isya did not know. She could only think of it as a fire. It burned inside her, burning away doubt and fear. And now, it was egging her on. "Jump, jump, JUMP" it beckoned.

"Anyone else have it in them to jump?" the instructor yelled out.

By this point, there were only the kids who had refused to jump and Isya. She walked up to the bay's edge. The wind howled, its cold breath chilling Isya. In the distance, she could see a green glow. The light the instructor had mentioned.

"Jump."

Isya's mind protested in vain as her legs propelled her off the ledge and into the howling dark.


	4. November

**Planet ****Onyx, ****Zeta Doradus System****  
**

**August 2539**

* * *

The blare of a siren. That was what Isya woke to. Her and her dozen bunk mates scrambled to figure out what was going on.

"Wake up, maggots!"

The male voice managed to pierce through the noise. It was an impressive feat given how deep the adult's voice was.

"Move! Move! MOVE!"

The ten-year-old's body protested. Her mind was at a loss. Yet, with the grace of an unoiled tinman, she arose. Her feet made the necessary motions of locomotion, unwillingly carrying the burden of a very tired child.

"You. Fish shit. Are you the fucking Tortoise?"

Spittle sprayed across Isya's face. Luck had bestowed her the privilege of the adult's ire. She looked at him. Her face painted with a mix of confusion and fear. It took her two moments just to form a response.

"What?"

Two moments too much.

"MOVE!"

This time, there was no moment needed. She fled the bunkhouse. Outside, the girl was greeted by the siren itself along with hundreds of other dazed children.

'_Why is it so loud..._?' It was the first coherent thought she formed so far, though Isya wasn't sure if she actually heard herself think it. Instead, she held herself, trying not to shiver. The feeling of cloth instead of skin surprised her. In place of her old skirt and shirt were plain gray fatigues. Slowly, the memories came back. The fall. The acceptance of candidacy. Whisked to the base. Sent to the bunks. Sleep. Now. Her head began to spin. Too much, too soon.

Just when she had had enough, the sirens calmed down. The chatter of the youngsters, while preventing true quiet, was hardly a comparison. It was good enough. Isya closed her eyes.

"Poke."

A prod. Isya ignored her shoulder being pushed in and continued to rest in her mind.

"What'cha doing?"

Another prod. This time harder. She opened her eyes and glared at her assailant. His response was a toothy smile.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop touching me."

Poke. Her annoyance began to blaze into anger.

"I said stop touching me!"

"I am not touching you."

The singsong merriment did not help Isya's mood. Her glare neared the intensity of a laser. If only it could actually burn through him. Instead, the boy only widened his cheeky grin.

"My name's Will."

Silence. It was the tried and true treatment. Not once did it fail to get the solitude she wanted. Undeterred, Will deftly got behind her. Surprised, she spun around to see what the blond child was doing. He managed to stay behind her nonetheless. And so they spun, a planet and her moon.

Too dizzy to continue, she broke her quiet. "What are you doing?"

"I-c-ya." He sounded out.

"What?"

"That's your name! I-c-ya. What a weird name."

"That's not my name! It's I-zeh-ah."

"Oh. Still a weird name."

She puffed her cheeks.

"Not-uh."

"Uh-huh."

It was incredible how he managed to get under her skin. Already he had elicited more words out of her than anyone else since forever.

"Not-uh"

"Uh-huh"

"Attention candidates."

The endless exchange ceased. The duo looked up toward the interruption, the siren.

"Attention candidates. Congratulations achieving candidacy. Please go to attendance hall D20 for further instruction. Follow the red lights."

"YOU HEARD THE BOT! MOVE IT!"

Isya's eyes widened. She knew that shrill voice. The thought of seeing the hawk woman again was more than enough motivation to "move it". Before the crowd could begin to lurch, Isya pushed her way toward the red glow.

"Hey, hold up."

Isya did not lessen her pace.

"Hey! What's the big deal?" Will gave her a frown. It was an odd sight for such a happy face.

"They said follow the red light."

"So what?"

She slowed.

"What do you mean 'so what'?" There was clear agitation now. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone?

"You were leaving me behind."

"Ya, so what?"

Will stared. It dawned on Isya that she might have spoken too fast. The sharp jab of using his own words against him made the cut that much deeper. She waited for him to speak. When he didn't, she considered apologizing.

_'Why should I? It's not like I want him here..._' she thought.

He had done nothing but annoy her. She hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't her fault if he was upset. She didn't owe him anything. So, the girl held her tongue. For a few steps, she remained in front of Will. Her pace then slowed so as to walk beside him. The boy remained quiet. As they moved, Isya heard not the cacophony of some three hundred voices but only silence.

The auditorium was, like the rest of the facility, gray, rigid, and spartan. Residing somewhere on the right end of the middle, Isya squirmed. The bland brown seats favored utility over comfort. She glanced over her left. Will stared at the center stage.

"Hey." She whispered.

He turned. His frown had not left.

"Umm..." Isya stuttered. She didn't want to say it. It wasn't fair for her say it. Especially when she didn't mean it. "...what'cha looking at?"

"Nothing..."

"Didn't look that way." She countered.

"Not-uh"

Instead of responding, she puffed her cheeks out and made a face. The sly grin returned on her neighbor's face. Before anymore could occur, someone spoke up.

"Good morning, candidates."

The words came from all around. Isya looked about trying to find the source. The voice was unlike the siren's, full of life and energy.

"If you want to know who is speaking..." An old man appeared in front of Isya. "...here I am."

She jumped in surprise at the sight. The man was a hologram, a foot tall. Flakes of snow blew around him as he smiled. Then he was gone, returning back to his disembodied form.

"First, congratulations. You have taken your first step toward becoming Spartans. Here, you will take your next step, joining a team."

Whatever was speaking paused for dramatic flair.

"Before we begin, I must tell you that when your name is called you need to follow the lighting on the floor. Now that that is out of the way...Team Alpha-"

Will gave her a nudge.

"Think we'll be on the same team?"

She pursed her lips. It wouldn't be bad to have someone she knew on her team. Sure he was annoying, but...

"Maybe."

"Next is Team India-"

"I hope so," he whispered.

The girl said nothing. Instead, she allowed a small smile of her own to come out. Whatever caused the smile was a foreign thing. Whatever it was, it left the smile unharmed as names flew by like darts, each one narrowly missing.

"Alright, Team November consists of the following candidates: James, Henry, Grace.

Three more darts.

"And Isya."

Bulls-eye.

She made a slow turn to Will. His face was blank. Her mouth opened, then closed. She removed herself from her seat. There was a soft green glow resting on the tired gray tiles. It beckoned her. Isya obliged, leaving the foreign feeling and Will behind.

As she blindly traced the lighted path, her mind mauled over the turn of events. It wasn't like Will was actually her friend. How many times had she said that? Isya ignored that thought. It was better this way. Slowly, she found herself settling into a familiar mood, acceptance. In the end, she was on her own and that was alri-.

"Oof." Isya stumbled backwards.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, dipshit!"

"Shut up, James."

"No, you shut up."

Isya shook her head, dazed. How long had she been walking? Ignoring the banter of "James" and some other boy, she looked to see where she was. Gray bunks, gray walls, gray tiles. To her surprise, she was once again in the bunkhouse. Or at least a bunkhouse. Everything was so wonderfully monochromic, it hard was hard to tell.

"Don't worry about them." someone whispered.

Isya turned. Ahead, a blonde girl stood, half a head shorter than Isya. Between the girl's smile and her sapphire eyes, she easily captured Isya's attention.

"Oh." A tart response. Isya didn't mean it, but what else was she supposed to say?

And thus, for the third time this day, Isya once again prompted an awkward silence. Assuming the silence included the escalating shouting contest between the two boys.

"My name's Grace."

Isya shook her head. It seemed that Grace hadn't been whispering her voice was just that soft.

"What?" She shouted, trying to cut through the yelling.

Grace started to repeat herself.

"My name is..." She trailed off when it was clear Isya still couldn't hear. The blonde held up her hand and raised one finger. Recognizing the "wait a minute", Isya stood as Grace strode toward the now wrestling boys. As they rolled on the floor, Grace gave a kick to both of them. They stopped.

"What?" Incredibly, they spoke in unison.

"You two were being loud."

They responded with blank faces. Taking advantage of the ceasefire, Grace faced Isya once more.

"Anyway, my name is Grace."

"Oh."

Once again, Isya managed to invite a socially awkward silence.

"...and what's your name?"

"Isya."

"Nice to meet you-" Before Grace could finish, the redheaded boy stepped in front.

"-my name is Ja-" Ironically, he too was interrupted as the other boy shoved him.

"-my name is Hen-"

"-how about I do this?" Grace gently moved between the two boys before another fight could break out. Surprisingly, despite her inferior size, Grace made an effective barrier between the quarreling pair.

"Like I said, my name's Grace."

She pointed to the redhead on her left, the same boy Isya had ran into.

"This is Henry."

"Hi..." He grunted.

Isya returned a small wave of hello. The boy was an oddity to her. Little brownish dots covered his pale face. They were accompanied by a flat nose and dull green eyes that seemed to be constantly squinting. All of this rested on a small round head that topped off his rather large body. The more she stared the more comical the sight became. If he hadn't been right there, Isya would have probably snickered at the sight.

"And this is James."

"Hey." He greeted.

While not quite as big, James was still impressively large for his age. He, unlike Henry, was far less humorous for Isya to stare at. His shaggy black hair contrasted James' cropped tuff of red, as did he tanned skin to the other boy's pale coloring. The straight nose and large brown eyes he wore made him a far more familiar sight to her. Indeed, his face mirrored hers. Aside from eyes and nose, he also sported a large mouth. Plus he hadn't yelled at her. She liked him much more.

"You're Isya, right?" This time it was Grace.

"Ya."

"You don't talk a lot do you?"

"No."

Grace gave her a look as Isya realized that she had made her point. After rolling her eyes, Grace continued.

"Well, I guess this is everyone. Now what?"

"I don't care, as long as I get to be Spartan!" It dawned on Isya that James was the opposite of Grace, boisterous and...loud. Maybe she didn't like him quite so much.

Henry snorted. "Aren't we a team or something?" He questioned, ignoring James' glare.

"I think so." The blonde girl affirmed. Isya nodded in agreement with Grace.

"Indeed you are a team!" An elderly man, blue in color, materialized in the middle of the group.

The four kids jumped at the appearance.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Well, Mr. James, I am Deep Winter."

"What kind of name is that?" This time is was Henry.

Rather than saying, Deep Winter just made a slight movement. At this behest, simulated snowflakes appeared overhead.

"I guess that makes more sense..."

"It's still weird." Henry muttered.

Isya could have almost sworn the hologram rolled its eyes. However, before she could be sure, the blue man moved on.

"Now, my underlings, you are Team November." His tone shifted from its energetic, singsong state to something more somber. "I know you all once had brothers and sisters. Look around you. Who you see will be your new siblings. Your new family." He gave a pause, though it seemed like the second he took was an eternity to him. "Ms. Grace, I believe you asked what's next. Well, history class is next."

The quartet stared at him.

"What? No one said this was school!" Henry's words more than embodied the group's thoughts.

The devious face was an odd sight on the frost covered man. "If you want to be a Spartan, you better get moving." It was almost as if he was enjoying this. "Oh, and you have five minutes before it starts."

He disappeared.

James grit his teeth. The sound made for good accompaniment as Isya and Grace stared at each other in disbelief.

"Where are we even supposed to go?"

Henry's shout of frustration summoned a familiar friend, a green light on the floor. Without hesitation, James began to follow it out the bunkhouse with Henry in hot pursuit. Isya and Grace gave one last dumbfound look to one another, before tracing the boys' steps.


End file.
